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<title>The Reflection Of Flames by lavundarboy</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207502">The Reflection Of Flames</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavundarboy/pseuds/lavundarboy'>lavundarboy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apocalypse, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rebellion, Short Story, mlm, post modern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:34:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27207502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavundarboy/pseuds/lavundarboy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>enjoy this I found in my drafts from 2019...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OC/OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Reflection Of Flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How did I know? It was his eyes. His eyes were imprinted in my mind from the countless nights we'd had laying side by side, noses mere centimetres apart. I would recognise them anywhere. The steel grey colour was unsettling in any light but now, reflecting the flames of the village burning around him, they were truly terrifying. </p><p>He had become everything he swore to destroy and his face shown no sign of remorse. Standing in the centre of his creation of destruction, covered in the ash that had sprung from the burning house, he seemed only an empty shell of his former self. His chest rose and fell quickly as he took sharp breaths, anger visible everywhere but on his face. Blood had begun to trickle from a gash on the side of his face. This was the image that would haunt me for many nights after the War - not the carnage I would come to witness, but this. He may have been a shadow to begin with but now he was nothing. There was nothing left to show of his former self except the braided band of leather that was tied around his right wrist, the same arm in which he carried his broadsword. </p><p>The boy who I had spent all of my childhood with was now gone - replaced by a man of power and death.</p>
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